


Turn And Cough

by Dirty_Corza



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Intersex, M/M, Mpreg, Slash, Surgery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-28
Updated: 2012-08-10
Packaged: 2017-10-28 07:52:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/305587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dirty_Corza/pseuds/Dirty_Corza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Lestrade decide to become "mothers" for their Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Only The Begining

**Author's Note:**

> THIS FIC CONTAINS MPREG. LIKE, SERIOUSLY, IT'S THE WHOLE POINT OF IT. DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ.
> 
> I don't know why my brain insisted I write this, but it did. And I will continue. Enjoy!

“I have to do WHAT?” The tone of his voice meant all present were well aware at how appalled the idea made John.

“It's a simple enough implant, and there are no undue side effect.” Mycroft had decided it was his duty to cure John of his distaste, using the only form of persuasion he knew: logic. It wasn't working out so well for him.

“No. Nothing except I'll get fucking pregnant. No side effects at all!” Sherlock smiled at his husband's outrage, though it was one of quiet humor rather than one of pride or any other emotion that would indicate he supported John in this. “Why can't Sherlock get the implant? Why does it have to be me?!” At this point, Sherlock began giggling, grinning at Mycroft as if to say 'I told you so'.

“Because he's thin as a twig and it would likely break him. You on the other hand, are much more well suited for the duty.”

“Duty? Oh? Is that what this is about? Then which one of you is doing this surgery with me?” he gestured at Mycroft and Lestrade sitting side by side on the couch.

Sheepishly, Lestrade raised his hand, knowing what kind of reaction it would bring. “I am, and, I'm the reason you're being asked to do this too. I'd, well, I'd rather not do it alone.”

John was silent, the conflict of emotions all too clear on his face. Rage at being forced into something, pity for his friend who was also going through this, and also a sense of dread in the pit of his stomach as he realized something else. “This surgery. It's permanent isn't it. Like, not a one time use thing.” It wasn't a question. He was a doctor, he read the medical journals, he knew what exactly the surgery did. He knew all the facts, medically speaking. “This isn't something you're asking me to do once, Mycroft. You're asking me to risk pregnancy every time I- Hell. You're probably hoping we have a nice happy family with plenty of kids. Just like.” He stopped, taking a deep breath, turning to fix Sherlock with a meaningful stare.

“Yes John?” The consulting detective had managed to calm down, preparing himself for whatever it was John was going to ask him. He didn't know for sure, but he knew it was coming, and would be important. He couldn't mess this up on purpose right now, not even to humiliate Mycroft. As much as it was his brother's idea, Sherlock still wanted this, too.

“Do you, I mean- Are you sure you want to have kids. With, christ, with me?” John searched Sherlock's face, knowing this would be it. The big life-changing question. Far more important than when he first asked Sherlock to go out with him, or the day he proposed. This meant changing something intrinsically John about himself, and adding in something that, well, wasn't. It didn't matter if all the surgery did was allow him to bear children, if he'd still be a man afterward or not. What mattered was here and now. Did Sherlock really like the idea of being a father with him?

“Yes, John.” Two words were all Sherlock said, but they meant the world to John, they made all the difference. Those two words were why he turned to where Mycroft was waiting with papers, signing his permission for the surgery to take place.

\- - -

Greg was having trouble sleeping. It was only one more night before the surgery, and as much as he wanted to do this for Mycroft, the fear of what exactly he was agreeing to was getting to him at last. Even Mycroft's soft weight beside him wasn't helping. He was fidgeting, tossing, turning, curling in on himself instead of turning to pull Mycroft close to him.

“You need your sleep.” Mycroft's eyes were shut, and yet his voice was just as sleepy as it had been during lunch at noon.

“Can't. Nervous.” Greg felt Mycroft's arms pulling him closer, gentle lips pressing against his back.

“Don't be. John will be there, it will be safe, and I won't go anywhere.”

“I know, but, it's a month. A month of staying there, sleeping alone because it's too much of a risk to come to bed with you, because it takes a month to heal enough for activities.” he turned toward his lover, burying his face where his neck met shoulder. “I don't want a month without this, as much as I want to make you happy, and I know this will. I want to be able to do this, to have children. I just... Without you there, it's like going back to what it was, and I don't-”

Mycroft leaned in, gently shushing his near-frantic list of worries with a kiss. “Greg. I love you. And I'll be in a room right next to yours, waiting for them to pronounce you well enough to come into my arms. Like I could sleep well with you in the hospital and me miles away.” He kissed him again, slowly growing more passionate with them, pouring his heart through the kiss into Greg's chest. It felt amazing, somehow feeling all the love and adoration filling him completely.

“Thank you.” he whispered once Mycroft had pulled back. “I love you.” With that, he pulled his husband against him once more, curling his arms and legs around him possessively before falling asleep with him in his arms.

Mycroft smiled, kissing the top of his head. “Love you too.” he murmured before his arms returned the favor of holding them together, and he drifted off to sleep as well.


	2. sherlock/john I

John stared at the face looking at him in the mirror. Things had changed in the past month, but you wouldn't be able to tell, not just by looking at him. New biological hardware, and no outward appearance of it. He had to look away after less than a minute, though he hated himself for doing it. He couldn't even face himself anymore, he couldn't look at his own body without feeling like something was wrong.

“John?” That was Sherlock's voice, through the door. This was the first time his husband had been allowed to visit him here, the first time he'd be allowed to touch him in over a month, and John wanted to pretend he was out, pretend he couldn't hear him, do something, anything, to keep Sherlock from seeing him like this. He had worked so hard to keep a good face about the whole thing in front of his lover, but now, he was vulnerable, and open, and he knew he wouldn't be able to hide it if Sherlock came in now.

With a deep breath, he readied himself for whatever would happen next, pressing the button on the counter that would open the door.

“John?” hesitant, repeating himself, Sherlock was nervous too. Did he already know? Had he already seen the signs of John's mental struggle? His steps were firm, though,as he came toward John who stood with his eyes pressed closed. “John, are you- are you afraid of me?”

He couldn't answer, he couldn't move. Even as Sherlock's hands gently rested on his shoulders, even as he felt that long, thin body hesitantly press close behind him. “You've been nervous, hiding it well, but John... I don't want you to be afraid of me, John. I don't want you to feel you can't tell me everything. I love you, John. I don't like... this. You've been eating less forcing smiles, quieter. Part of it is probably from the mild hormones, but there's also mental stress here. Things I-I asked you to do, things you weren't sure about. Things you agreed to to make me happy.”

Sherlock's voice trailed off as his arms wrapped around John's oh-so-still body. “I saw it getting worse and worse and I never said anything, and God, John. I'm so sorry.” his voice was a whisper, his lips no more than a brush against John's neck, and the agony, oh, John could feel that agony in every touch, in every syllable his husband spoke with that tremulous voice. It hummed in his bones, that same, twisted feeling. And Sherlock had noticed, noticed enough to be hurt over it, and John couldn't stop the warm fuzzy feeling that ghosted up his spine at that thought. Even with them spending so much time apart, Sherlock still knew him well enough, Sherlock still cared. Somehow that alone would make this all better, if anything could. 

“I'm scared, Sherlock, I don't feel like me any more. This is something out of science fiction, a man having a womb. I feel like I'm not entirely me anymore, I just...”

“Shhh.” Sherlock's lips pressed against his skin, hands moving gently to sooth, to calm. “You're always you, John. And you know this is reversible just say the word and it's gone. I don't want you feeling wrong. Because to me you never are, you never will be. You are you, and I'd love you to bear or children, but not like this, not when you don't know if that's what you want, too.”

John bit his lip, body pressing back against Sherlock, already feeling the strange, dual sensation he had read about, the feeling of getting hard and getting damp, all at the same time. Sherlock's voice could still do this to him, his hands caressing his chest, finger's entwining with John's own still got such a reaction out of him. 

“Sherlock... I want you, God, it's so much more intense like this. I just...” he turned, reaching up to Sherlock's cheek, urging him down for a sweet, gentle kiss. “Be slow with me, be gentle with me. It's going to be like our first months together again, with a lot of me questioning myself but trusting you. Because I want that, too. I just... It's like a whole new body, only it isn't. It's just a new section of body, and that really is kinda harder to take than the idea of a whole new body.”

“Of course, John. Of course.” Sherlock's lips pressed against his again, firmly, but only for a moment before he pulled back, taking a step away from him, yet keeping their fingers locked. “Let's go home, John.”

“Yes. Home.”


End file.
